


though this be madness

by alaynes



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canonical Character Death, Dragons, F/M, Minor Character Death, Multi, R plus L equals J, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-04 08:30:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3051383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alaynes/pseuds/alaynes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the heart of the Great Grass Sea, Daenerys Targaryen decides to hatch dragon eggs. Elsewhere, the zombie apocalypse is coming and a few kids decide they’re stopping it. And everyone else… just gets caught in the crossfire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. prologue (the time is now)

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from Shakespeare's Hamlet.  
> Many many many thanks to my fantastic beta, josiepug. Seriously, I can't stress this enough. She's amazing.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys steals into a museum. Robb and Sam wait for Jon.

**23rd January, 2014**   
**Pentos**

"This is a bad idea." Jorah repeated, looking — and sounding — nervous. Dany rolled her eyes as she watched the glass casing carefully, waving a hand to quiet Jorah. The older man had been apprehensive about this since she suggested it, warning her that it would end badly.

Well, it would have a dramatic ending, she knew that. Good or bad, she couldn't know for sure. Yet.

The locks that had held the case in place should go down soon. _Irri is an expert at this_ , she told herself. She had disabled the sensor alarm long ago, allowing them to sneak into the old palace undetected. She must have disabled the system on the display as well.

Dany _could_ call her and make sure. But the atmosphere within the museum was intense, and (apart from Jorah's periodic attempts to talk her out of this) quiet. The sort of quiet you read about, when you could drop a pin and you could hear it. It was rare, especially in a bustling city like Pentos, and Dany really didn't feel like ruining that with her mobile and its tinny beeps.

She decided to take the chance, and lifted the case on the display.

It rose.

Dany sighed with relief as she placed the case on the ground as quietly as possible. Jorah began his stream of warnings once more ("It's not safe, _Khaleesi_! We may be caught! Are you listening to me?"), looking frantic. She lifted one of the eggs within from its velvet pillow, holding it up to eye-level to observe it. In her hands, the stone — _stone_ — was warm, living, proving her right. Of course. It was the black one, large, with scales that gleamed in the low lighting of the palace. The others gleamed as well, beautiful even in the darkness.

She picked up the rest, handed one to to Jorah to hold, and swept from the museum. Outside, Silver awaited them. In the desert, Rakharo and Jhogo would have a bonfire ready.

As they entered her car, undeterred by alarms or guards, Dany looked at the dragon eggs in her arms and sighed.

What would happen next remained to be seen.

* * *

 

 **19th January, 2014**   
**The Wall**

Sam had doubts.

Well, Sam wasn't the only one who had doubts. Robb had his fair share of them, involving _what if Jon's wrong?_ And _if anyone finds out we're going to be in a lot of trouble_.

His cousin insisted that he was right (granted, Jon often was), and that no one would find out about it, because they were stopping the apocalypse. When the White Walker never came, no one would know — unless they told them, of course, but everyone in their little band of brothers had unanimously agreed not to. For one, if Jon told anyone, Aunt Lya would hear, and she'd be furious — as would Mum, and even the Gods didn't want to see the two of them angry together. Besides, all their parents had enough on their plates without hearing that their children were essentially committing an act of vandalism in not only scaling the Wall (a site preserved by the Citadel), but then going underneath it into the little caves they'd heard of (and only heard of), trying to find the mythical Horn of Joramun.

Well, Jon calmed all their doubts with his solemn certainty, but the longer they sat there and waited for him, the stronger these doubts became. Sam was fidgeting in the van next to the equipment (just in case the “winch” didn’t work), and Robb kept clenching and unclenching his fists.

"Is he coming?" Sam asked once again, and Robb clenched his jaw. If he wasn't here in twenty more minutes, it would be far too late for this. Already they'd cancelled once, when the secret route _under_ the Wall that Sam had heard about had turned out to be a bust, iced over by the Restoration Society a long time ago. "What's taking him so long?" Robb muttered.

Then they heard the sound of Jon's bike outside, and both Robb and Sam climbed out of his van — into the _freezing fucking cold_ — to see Jon there with Ygritte.

"Why'd you bring her?" Sam complained. Robb snorted; it was no secret Ygritte frightened Sam a little, and with good reason.

"What? I don't want them White Walkers takin' over anymore than you do." She rolled her eyes and got off the bike, Jon looking fondly at her the entire time. If it were anyone but Jon and Ygritte, Robb would think the presence of his girlfriend might threaten the integrity of their mission (Dad's words), but Jon was too serious about the whole thing.

At least she hadn't brought Mance, or that giant-loving weirdo Tormund.

"Let's do this." Jon said, giving them all a look, and Robb nodded. But they hadn't taken five steps when they heard it; loud as a cavalry of ten thousand men, all with alarms and flashing lights —

Stannis and Melisandre.

 _Shit_.


	2. one (everything you hear is a lie)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon Arryn invites someone to dinner. Cersei complains about Robert and tries to convince Jaime to quit his job with little success. Catelyn gets a call from her sister, and Ned gets a call from his best friend. Elsewhere, Viserys tells Daenerys she has to marry a Dothraki horselord.

**24th February, 2013**   
**King's Landing**

The document sat on the table, still in the dull brown envelope he'd put it in. _Give it to him_ , he kept telling himself. _Give it to Robert_. Robert deserved to know.

If he went looking right now, he’d find Robert and Cersei (Robert dragged unwillingly along by his wife, no doubt, because when did the man do something for his — _the_ —children himself?) in the "Dragonpit", discussing renting it for Myrcella's school play. Though the lengths that woman went to for her children may be admirable; the children and the woman, were not.

The whole thing disgusted Jon just a little. If Robert knew that Joffrey wasn't his son, but a bastard, and fathered by Cersei's own brother; what would he do?

He'd be furious, Jon Arryn knew that. Robert did nothing by halves, and that included his anger. He'd go into a rage the way he had only once before, and Gods knew that had ended badly. It was part of why he hadn't shown him the results yet.

It was an accident, really. An offhand remark of Stannis' at Joffrey's birthday party a few days ago had started him onto it, the idea that these children weren't really Robert's. It wasn't hard to believe; none of them really bore any resemblance to him, golden Lannisters down to the bone, all of them. The report he got back confirmed that the children's DNA didn't match Robert's.

From there it seemed to become more and more obvious. Cersei and Jaime had always been close, and they spent a large part of their time together. When given choice of security guards, she had immediately chosen Jaime. He probably spent more time with the kids than Robert did.

It was clear, and it was on paper. All Jon had to do was hand them to him.

But.

But. Jon didn't care about what happened to Cersei or her brother, but the children were, after all, just children. They had no idea, and they looked up to Robert as a father, even if he was a terrible one. And if he knew his godson, then he knew that if he was a neglecting father now, he'd see himself as a father no longer if he knew.

The doorbell rang, and Jon got up to see Baelish there. He tried not to make a face at the man's wide smile. Baelish was as efficient a man with money as anyone Jon had seen, but he didn't really like the thin man with the eternal smirk. But he was Lysa's friend, and she liked to invite him over sometimes. Jon didn't object; after all, Lysa had little company except for Robin and himself, and he didn't feel like ending the little socialising she did enjoy.

"Petyr," he said, stepping aside to let him in. Baelish was, as always, dressed immaculately — and, as always, looked like he had something up his sleeve. "Do come in. Will you be staying for lunch? Lysa's making soup.”

* * *

**25th February, 2013**   
**King's Landing**

The dinner had ended hours ago. Everyone had left quickly after, because no one — _no one_ — wanted to be within the hall when Robert was well and truly drunk.

Ordinarily drinking didn't change his behavior much, it only made him more forward and handsy than when he was sober. Today, though, he had grown positively maudlin as the day wore on, going on about how Jon had been like a father to him after his parents' accident. Then he'd started talking about Ned Stark again, dear old Ned, his oldest friend, like a brother to him really. That was when Stannis had left, unsurprisingly. Only Cersei had remained, trying to convince him to go home before he embarrassed either of them more than he already had.

She looked up as the door opened and Jaime entered. She sighed into a glass of wine (after the day she'd had she felt she deserved it) and turned to face him as he took a seat at the bar.

"The children get home okay?" She'd asked her brother to escort Joff, Myrcella and Tommen home hours ago, not wanting them to see their father that way — not that it was really avoidable, given Robert was in this state all the time.

"They're fine. Robert?" Clearly he didn't really care; even as he asked about her husband's well-being, he placed one hand on her knee. But Jaime never had cared for Robert, not so different from her.

"I put him in a car. He should find his way home — eventually." Then she pulled her knee away from his hand, glaring at him. "Not here. Someone could see." The hall was empty; she'd even told the bartender to leave, but someone could walk in any second now. Jaime could be so careless sometimes, as if none of this mattered. Cersei was the sensible one in all her relationships. She had to be the watchful one with Jaime, had to mother Robert like he was one more of her children. "I've been trying to convince Robert to take you on now that Jon's gone. And to take Father on the board." Jaime could do it, she knew he could. Jon Arryn may not have agreed, but he was capable. Certainly more than some of the idiots Robert employed. He might not start very high, but he could make his way up.

Father was more difficult, as Robert didn't like him very much, but he had wanted to be on the board since before Robert had given the promised place to Jon Arryn. And now... She grimaced. "He wants Ned Stark." The grim Northerner was one of Robert's oldest friends, from when they were both still in school. They hadn't seen each other in years, since Ned's son, Robb (named for Robert, _of course_ ) was born twenty years ago,  and even then her darling husband would rather have him on the Seven Kingdoms Board of Directors than her father.

"I'm in Kingsguard, Cers." Jaime said slowly, like he was explaining it to a child, and she scoffed. _Kingsguard_. If anything, it was a waste of his abilities. She remembered Jaime twenty years ago, shining beautiful Jaime, with so much potential. All wasted on Kingsguard Securities.

"You can leave, you know that. There's always been a place at Casterly for you. Father would take you on. He's wanted you in Casterly for years, you know."

"I'd rather not get into this right now." Jaime replied, as brusque as he could be with her. She placed a hand on his shoulder — sisterly, that was sisterly. Anyone who looked would see that it was nothing more — and sighed. If it wasn't one, it was the other. Father pushed her to convince him, and when she tried talking to him he got irritated. Was she the only sensible one in her family?

Instead of saying anything more about it, though, she turned back to her drink and changed the subject.

"Lysa Arryn's finally gone mad."

* * *

**25th February, 2013  
** **Winterfell**

"Lysa, calm down. I can't hear you." The line cracked even as her sister spoke, making her words more disjointed and nonsensical by the second. "Tell me once again. What do you think happened to Jon?"

The news had come yesterday in the form of a call from Robert, Ned's old friend. Jon Arryn's death had taken Ned by shock, sending him retiring to his study for the rest of the night, barely speaking to anyone. Cat understood, of course. He had been something of a father figure to Ned, and his loss was quite something to deal with. It seemed hard to digest that Jon Arryn was also her brother in-law. She'd seen Lysa only twice since she married Jon, and both times for only a day or two. They lived so far away, it was difficult.

Needless to say, she wasn't expecting the call. But it had come all the same, her sister telling her she thought her husband had been murdered.

"The Lannisters," the line crackled, making her next words inaudible. Then, "it was poison, I know — tears of — strong blood, he — want to take little — I said no, I told — " The rest of it was drowned out as the sound of wailing in the background took over. That would be Robin, Catelyn’s nephew. She'd met him only once. He was a spoiled child, sickly and given to fits from time to time. "Wrap your — tighter, darling — no, mummy needs to speak with Auntie Catelyn, then she'll — "

"Lysa, why don't you come here? Or go to Riverrun. I'm sure Edmure would be glad to have you and Robin."

Even though she couldn't catch all of Lysa's words, Cat could certainly make out the gist of it. Her poor sister was hysterical, speaking of her husband being murdered by the Lannisters. Robert's wife and her family had, apparently, killed Jon then tried to take Robin away from her. Secretly, Cat couldn't help but wonder why they, or anyone, would want to take that horrid, spoiled child — and then, of course, she felt guilty for thinking that way about her own nephew. It was hardly his fault he had been indulged and coddled all his life.

"I can't!" Came a shriek from the other end. "It's not safe! I'm taking — Eyrie — we'll be — strong blood! That's what — Jon — said that!"

From outside came the noise of shouting, and Catelyn struggled not to groan. Arya and Sansa, again. And all the rest of her children would simply sit there and snicker, never even trying to break them apart. By the Gods, what it was that made Sansa so easy to provoke, and Arya always ready with a jab, she didn't know.

"I have to go — announcing — " there was another long plaintive wail, and then the line crackled off without waiting for a goodbye, and Cat sighed.

"Safe flight, Lysa." Hopefully once she was in the Eyrie she'd start thinking more logically. Why would the Lannisters want to murder Jon Arryn? It seemed ridiculous, like one of those conspiracy theory Bran was always talking about.

She returned to the living room and found Sansa and Arya on opposite ends of the sofa, Sansa looking down at her nails with a determinedly annoyed expression, and Arya glaring at a stray roller skate.

"How many times have I told you not to leave your skates lying around, Bran!" She chastised, glaring at the back of his head, buried in some comic. "One of these days you're going to have a terrible fall. And what have you two been arguing about?"

They both started speaking at once, and Catelyn sighed. Arya had, it seemed, taken one of Sansa's make-up kits again, and Arya insisted that she didn't want any of her "stupid girly stuff" ("Language!", then, snickering from both Sansa and Bran) anyways, why would she take it? Catelyn sat down on the dining chair across from Rickon — the sweet child was the only one who didn't give her a stroke twice a day, Gods bless him — and felt a headache coming on.

Then Ned entered, holding his mobile in one hand. Sansa and Arya both quieted. "Robert called." Ned announced, then a large smile broke out on his face. "He's coming North."

Catelyn sighed, and pressed a hand to her head.

* * *

**22nd December, 2012**   
**Pentos**

Rhaegar wasn't the sort of man to force anyone into anything, but his younger brother was. So when Dany strode into his office, saying that Viserys was trying to force her to date Khal Drogo, he wasn't really that surprised. (Though he felt he should be.)

"Start from the beginning." He said, looking from Dany, who was near tears and somewhat disheveled, to Viserys, scowling with his arms crossed over his chest. "What happened? Dany, you start."

It wasn't the first time he'd broken up an argument like this. Viserys regularly did something or the other to upset their sister, though Rhaegar was fairly sure it rose out of love. Gods knew, really; it wasn't as though he could pick his brother's brain, though some days it really would help. Dany, though, didn't quite see it that way. She was delicate, and easily upset by this sort of thing. Even in Viserys' history of tall tales fabricated to scare her (convincing her that Robert Baratheon was out to get them, and that they'd have to move away to escape his "hired swords", telling her their father could turn into a dragon, giving her some ridiculous story about why they had left Westeros involving him and a great battle, the endless stories about dragons remembering and taking back what was _theirs by right_ ) this was new. Convincing her to date this Khal Drogo?

_Who even was Khal Drogo?_

"Who is Khal Drogo?"

"He's a Dothraki horselord. Viserys said I have to date him, and marry him for his army. I'm only twenty, I'm not marrying anyone! And I'm not dating a horselord."

He sighed. It sounded like something out of a movie: marrying for an army. Not to mention the Dothraki had stopped being horselords in the 6th century AC. He told her this (she looked _surprised_ about it, and he tried not to groan at his sister) then turned to his brother. "Viserys?"

"I was only joking. I don't really want her to marry anyone she doesn't want to, even for an army." Why did he even want an army?

Dany gave him a glare, lips pursed and arms crossed, and Viserys looked as penitent as he ever was. Rhaegar looked down and back at his paperwork, figuring their problem was solved for today. Hopefully it would be a while before Vis tried to do something like this again.

As the two of them left his office with a friendly "thanks, Rhae" from Dany, Aegon walked in.

"Rhaenys called. She'll be here in January." Rhaegar nodded, wishing she'd chosen to call him instead of her brother, but it was hardly a surprise. Rhaenys had been three when they moved here, and old enough, if nothing else, to decide that he was in the wrong and that she'd rather return to Dorne with Elia than stay with him. Twenty years later, and still she held the grudge. (He didn't blame her.) "And she'll be bringing Arianne and Quentyn." Aegon whirled out of the room, yelling after Dany and Vis to wait up.

 _And she'll be bringing Arianne and Quentyn._ Rhaegar placed his head in his hands and groaned, glad the kids didn't see. This was just — perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any comments and kudos are love! And many many thanks to my lovely beta, josiepug!


	3. two (the beautiful)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aegon greets his sister and cousins at the airport. Sansa (and the Starks) meet the Baratheons, and Robert Baratheon wants to see someone. Tyrion books a flight, makes a call. Catelyn considers Lysa's words.

**18th January, 2013**   
**Pentos**

Aegon hadn't seen his cousins since the last time he was in Dorne visiting Mum and Rhaenys. So, years, really. But even then Arianne had been older, and really attractive. But then, so were most of the Dornish, as he liked telling Vis. Maybe it was in the genes — but maybe it was in the clothes.

Sure, he dressed the same way Dany, Vis, and everyone else in Pentos did. But in Dorne, they dressed... differently. Thinner, smaller clothes because of the heat. You could walk down a street in Sunspear and see people in swimsuits on the way to the beach. His cousin didn't go to the beach very often, but she did go to the pool they had in Uncle Doran's mansion, and, well — he was fifteen, he'd noticed. No more than he'd noticed Uncle Oberyn's girls, but honestly it felt safer to observe Arianne, even from a distance. Nym and Obara were positively scary, Tyene made him a bit more uncomfortable than he'd like, and Elia — well, she was named for his mum. He'd rather not.  

Well, he couldn't help but observe now. Arianne moved slowly, with a shake of the hips. In Braavos, she'd have fit right in with her harem pants and her fluorescent pink t-shirt. In Pentos, she stood out. Next to her, Rhaenys, looking as Dornish as Arianne, waved. He waved back, grinning as his sister came towards him, Arianne and Quentyn in tow.

Next to him, Viserys raised his eyebrows. "She's my sister, your niece," he said, rolling his eyes. Dany quirked an eyebrow at Vis, giving him a little nudge with her elbow (which knowing Dany was probably a larger nudge than she knew). Aegon knew how Vis got around girls he liked, and he sure as all the Seven Hells wasn't about to let Vis anywhere _near_ his sister, not like that.

"I'm not looking at little Rhaenys."

"Ah," he smiled brightly as Rhaenys hugged him tightly. "Hey! Was the flight okay?" Rhaenys was afraid of flying, something he'd teased her about for ages, how if they'd lived during the old Dragon Age she'd have  been miserable. But Rhaenys had moved on to hug Dany, and it was Arianne who answered.

"The flight was good," she said, voice heavily accented. "How have you been, Aegon? Remember me from Sunspear?"

Behind him, Dany was greeting Quentyn, who was fairly shy and quiet, even compared to Rhaenys. Vis was looking interestedly at Arianne, who didn't seem to mind. But she was _talking_ to him. He was smiling, wasn't he? Hopefully not too wide. "Yeah, yeah, how could I forget? You.”

Arianne hugged him (she was _tiny_ ) and Aegon tried not to squeak.

Gods, he was royally screwed.

* * *

**1st March, 2013  
Winterfell**

The day Uncle Baratheon en famille finally got to Winterfell was pretty bad.

Sansa had never been South in her life. She'd seen pictures and videos and heard from both her parents about it (Mum had all good things to say, but Dad didn't really like it), but even though both Mum and Dad had spent years in the South as kids, _she'd never even seen it_.

Well, neither had any of her siblings, but they didn't want to. All of Robb's friends were up here (though that was pretty much just Jon and Theon), as were all of Bran's. Rickon was too young to care. Arya liked it here, stuck in the boring cold North, and thank the Gods for that. Sansa hated to imagine it; her first time in the South seeing it all, the glamour of it, and then her annoying little sister ruining it all.

Well, she wouldn't let Arya ruin her trip South, whenever that would be (she was going to convince Mum to convince Dad to let her go. She was _eighteen_ , not a child anymore), but right now she had to make sure she didn't ruin Dad's friends' visit North.

She wasn't sure how long Uncle Robert would be staying here, but she hoped it was a fairly long time. She knew his kids were coming, too, and she'd seen pictures of them before. Joffrey in particular, and Joffrey Baratheon was handsome. Not handsome in the way Jeyne thought Theon was (to which Sansa said _ew_ , Theon was disgusting and such a _perv_ ), but really handsome. He was tall, and golden all over with his bright blond hair, and his facebook profile picture suggested that he was the master at that pout all guys did when taking pictures of themselves. She'd asked Dad about Uncle Robert's kids when he'd told them they were all coming, and from what she'd gathered Joffrey was really popular, always with friends over, always out somewhere. And he was _in college_.

And he was Dad's best friend's son, so Dad couldn't complain that she was dating someone he didn't know. _If that didn't make him perfect_.

Which was why she was in a miserable mood almost the entire day he arrived; because he'd be here in no time at all, and she'd make a terrible impression, and he'd never like her.

First, she woke up with her hair entirely frizzed overnight. Arya said she was stupid and there was nothing wrong with it, but she didn't care about hair or looking good or anything like that, so how would she know anyway? Then she hadn't had time to wash her hair because the water had been _freezing_ , because Bran had to use up all the hot water, keeping the shower occupied even longer than Robb said she did (everyone knew what he was doing in there, and it had only been funny the first time Bran had used up all the hot water). Then Jeyne had called and distracted her by talking about how Theon had apparently _looked at her weird_ yesterday ("No, Jeyne, he didn't think you looked fat in that dress."), and when she finally hung up, Sansa didn't have the time to straighten her hair, or reapply her mascara, which had smudged when she was talking to Jeyne.

All in all, Sansa looked a mess, hair hastily tied into a messy Pentoshi braid,  minimal make-up on, and shivering in her badly thought-out sundress at the sudden cold (Arya had snickered and asked her who wore a sundress in the North in February, and Sansa had coldly told her that it was March and technically spring, and she wasn't cold anyway, total lie).

Of course, when the Baratheons finally arrived, it was totally worth it.

Robb had gone to pick them up from the airport because Mum had refused to let Dad go, saying something about how it would be easier to avoid Robert asking to see her if they were already home. So it was Robb that brought them all to their house, where everyone but Bran and Arya stood in the yard, greeting them with a smile.

They were exactly as Sansa had imagined. Uncle Robert was fat and old and looked red in the cold as he hugged Dad and ruffled her hair and Rickon's, then started talking about going to town. ("Come on, Ned." Uncle Robert said in his loud, booming sort of voice, pulling everyone's attention to him. "I want to see her.")

Mrs. Baratheon was beautiful, tall and stately — and was she wearing _Prada_? Wow. She kissed Mum on either cheek and smiled at her. Tommen and Myrcella were both very friendly, Myrcella giving her a friendly grin (though she looked more interested in Robb) and Tommen a shy smile.

But _Joffrey_.

Joffrey wasn't as tall as she'd thought, coming up just a bit shorter than her. But that didn't matter, because he was even better looking than his photos. He had lovely soft-looking hair that shone almost gold, and really really lovely green eyes. He smiled at her sweetly, and Sansa found herself almost blushing.

"Hi," she said, uncharacteristically shy.

"Hey. Sansa, right?"

* * *

**2nd March, 2013  
King's Landing**

If his father had his way every time, Tyrion would probably never leave their ancestral home on Casterly Rock.

No, really. Not their home in Lannisport, not their mansion in King's Landing — because of course he had to have a mansion in King's Landing — no, dear old Dad would keep him locked up in the heritage site that the Citadel had decided Casterly Rock was, so that no one could see him. Ever.

Or, maybe, so he couldn't see anything and anyone. Tyrion had never been much of an explorer or adventurer, finding it rather difficult to do the sort of adventurous things that were required of an adventurer (hiking, trekking, long walks, climbing hills or mountains), but when Robert had announced he was taking the family North for a few weeks or so, he'd actually wanted to go.

So naturally Father had to refuse on his behalf, then offered his private jet (only to snatch it away later; like Tywin Lannister would ever let Robert use the jet without his presence) so Robert definitely wouldn’t ask Tyrion twice..

Well, that was his problem. If Tyrion wanted to see the North (more specifically, the Wall), then he bloody well would, and with his own money. He was hardly Daddy's spoiled brat, unable to do anything without his financial aid. He had a job, he earned his own income, and he'd use it if he had to (and only if he _had_ to).

Tyrion called his father's agent and asked him to book the earliest ticket to Winterfell. He'd hire one of those tours to the Wall from there, maybe ask Jaime to come along if he could spare time from his “job” for his little brother. He was fairly certain he could emotionally blackmail him if he really tried.

As he hung up, the agent promising to let him know as soon as he had something, Tyrion got the nasty feeling he would be told on. Father’s people had a terrible habit of reporting all of his children’s activities to the man, as though they were still teenagers sneaking out of the house to do unspeakable things like hold hands with girls they liked or go to those terrible parties. Well, Tyrion didn’t care if the agent went complaining to Father. If the flight was only days away what was the worst that he could he do? Ground him?

Even then, safety precautions would be best. He dialed their home number and waited for it to ring. Father wouldn’t be home right now; he worked even on Saturdays, _of course_. "Mother," he said cheerfully when she picked up. "Do you think you can keep dear old Dad in a good mood for a while? I'm going to Winterfell."

* * *

**1st March, 2013  
** **Winterfell**

Robert had refused to discuss accommodation before he arrived.

Catelyn had insisted Ned try, but apparently every time he'd brought it up Robert had simply laughed it off, much as he was doing now.

"It's very last minute but I'm sure I could book a hotel." Ned was saying. Cersei nodded, and Catelyn felt herself finally feeling relief; the frankly horrifying image of Robert, his wife, his three children, their security, and his drinking habits _under her roof_ for Gods knew how long (more things Ned hadn’t been able to get out of Robert today) was enough to induce nightmares.

"Perhaps that would be for the best." Robert's wife said, and Robert bristled.

"Quiet, woman." Cersei's mouth stretched into a grimace that Catelyn was sure she herself sported as well. In the corner, Cersei's brother made a face. Ned remained stoic, but she could see he was barely keeping his own frown away; Robert remained oblivious. "Why do we need a hotel when we've got Ned's place?"

Catelyn struggled not to groan.

As her husband and his best friend relocated to Ned's study to catch up (said Ned) and drink together like they hadn't in years (Robert), she found herself sitting down with Cersei in the parlour, preparing coffee for them and hot cocoa for the children.

Mrs. Baratheon didn't look the sort of woman to simply suffer being told to quiet by anyone, certainly not a man like Robert Baratheon, but she had. This wasn't the first time today he'd made a crude remark like this. On their arrival Robert had immediately asked Ned about going into town.

"Come on, Ned," he'd said, ignoring his wife's pursed lips. "I want to see her." Catelyn had expected this. Ned had told her more than once about Robert's relationship with Lyanna, and she'd known that he'd want to meet her; that was why she'd sent Robb to the airport instead of Ned. She didn't know why he didn't discourage his best friend more.

"We're all tired, Robert," Cersei had tried to say, and she'd almost felt pity for the poor woman whose husband remained obsessed with an old flame years into their marriage. Catelyn didn't think _she_ could live with that kind of block in a relationship. "You could —"

But Robert had cut off her words with a "Not now, woman," leaving Cersei bristling and Ned and Catelyn uncomfortable.

"Let's go, Ned. I haven't seen Lyanna in twenty years. I've missed her." Catelyn wondered how much of her he _remembered_ after twenty years. He may have missed her, but Lyanna certainly hadn't missed him.

"Maybe later, Robert. Cersei's right, you must be exhausted. How long was the flight?" Ned, ever the diplomat, had redirected Robert's attention to complaints about the length of the flight ("Three hours, Ned, three hours, and no real drinks to be had!") and why they couldn't just take Cersei's father's private jet.

She handed Cersei her coffee and took a seat. "I do apologise for Robert." The woman said, looking almost tired. "I tried to tell him a hotel would be better, but it seems my husband isn't to be separated from his _best friend_."

"It's alright, I expected this." Catelyn responded, making herself comfortable. "They haven't seen each other in years. It's hard to imagine they're still such good friends."

Cersei gave a short laugh and a small, sarcastic smile. "Hmm, Robert has always been sentimental. He was quite upset when Jon Arryn died. Ned was the first person he thought of." She looked at Catelyn then, eyebrows raised in surprise. "Oh, he was your sister's husband, wasn't he? It's hard to remember, you're so different. She was so distraught when it happened. I'm sorry for her loss."

Catelyn nodded, thinking of the phone call with Lysa the other day. she had been distraught. Cersei's brother entered the parlour again, taking a seat at the far end of the room, and Catelyn wondered about Lysa's hysterics from last week. _The Lannisters killed Jon_. Poisoned him, in fact. Looking at them now (Cersei looking tired and somewhat bitter, and her brother Jaime shivering where he sat despite their heating) they didn't look like they could _kill_ anyone anymore than Lysa herself.

"I should get the rooms ready. Will your brother be staying with us?" At his mention, he had come as though beckoned, and was standing before them with eyebrows raised.

_Hadn't he and Lysa dated once?_

"Hm, he must stay here, guard us. That is what you do, Jaime? _Guard us_?" Cersei's tone was mocking, and her raised eyebrow looked like a challenge. Catelyn almost opened her mouth to respond, say she could have a room prepared for him if need be, but clearly this was something between the siblings. Some argument, maybe. Catelyn decided not to say anything.

"I'll find a hotel," Jaime said at length. He nodded to her once, gave his sister an inscrutable look, and left the room. Cersei's glare as she watched Jaime leave was hard. _If looks could kill_ , Catelyn thought, and to her horror, found herself reconsidering Lysa's words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All kudos and comments are wonderful and keep me going! 
> 
> Thank you so, so much to my beta, josiepug, who is wonderful and clearly magic.


	4. three (there's history here)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robb fills Jon in on the Baratheons. Rhaenys and her cousins visit a museum. Jaime plays a game, greets his brother. Daenerys meets a very impressive man.

**1st March, 2013**   
**Winterfell**

Robb arrived just as Jon was clearing the plates after lunch, looking both exhausted and relieved, probably glad to be out of the madhouse his home must have become on arrival of the Baratheons.

"Hey, man." He greeted, carrying the dishes into the kitchen. "What's going on? They here yet?" For days nothing had been talked about in the house except for Robert Baratheon's arrival. As Uncle Ned’s best friend, he was quite the important person, and all of his cousins had heard plenty about him over the years, from the same old stories to, occasionally, the news from King’s Landing. Jon personally didn't like the guy, and had heard enough about him that he knew he never would, but even he'd been curious, just a bit. Uncle Ned had shown him some pictures from when they were younger, and in his head Robert Baratheon still looked quite a lot like that.

"Yeah, they got here hours ago, but I couldn't leave until just now, Mum wouldn’t let me." Jon leaned against the sink, nodding. Of course Aunt Catelyn wouldn't allow Robb to leave when a guest had just arrived. It wouldn't be what a good host did, and Aunt Cat was all about manners.

"What’s he like?" Jon asked despite himself. "Still the same as the pictures?"

Robb laughed. "God, no. He’s all fat now, you don’t want to see him. Theon came over for a bit before he realised they were there already, and you should hear what he said." Jon raised an eyebrow at him.

"Do I want to?" Most of the things Theon said, Jon would rather not hear, ever. In fact, most things Theon said no one would prefer to hear. Gods knew how Robb got along with him so well.

"He said, ‘you’d think after three kids his wife would be the fat one, but she’s gorgeous.’ I think Mum might have heard, she gave Theon _such_ a look." Jon made a face; yeah, he’d definitely prefer not to have heard that. Sometimes he wondered why Aunt Cat even allowed Theon into the house, especially when there were guests around. Not that that would stop him. Theon had come to his place in the middle of the night as well, once or twice. Though, he was pretty sure he was frightened enough after what happened the last time that he hadn’t tried again. Hopefully it would stick.

"That’s just wrong, Robb. She’s old enough to be Theon’s mother."

"I told him. He just laughed it off." Jon sighed and made his way out of the kitchen, settling down on the sofa and making place for Robb.

"How's everyone else? What about that son of his Sansa was in love with?"

Robb snorted. "Joffrey? He looks like a tool, but Sansa seems to like him. Gods know why, he looks really slimy. She's playing proper hostess even now, entertaining the kids and stuff. I don't know how she does it, it was boring, really. They kept talking about old stuff." Robb lowered his voice, looking behind to make sure no one (Mum) was listening in. "He talked about, you know. Coming here. Seeing Aunt Lya."

"Well Aunt Lya doesn't want to see him, and if he thinks he can just march into my home like the big brute he is, I'll be kicking him out myself. With a broom if I have to." Mum entered the living room, arms crossed, and gave Robb a pointed look. Jon laughed at the expression on Robb's face, though really, he didn't want Robert Baratheon to visit any more than Mum did.

He'd only heard it told from Uncle Ned, really, because Mum wouldn't talk about it. Jon was born in the South, where Mum and his father had, well, eloped. Then she'd found out that he was married and had two kids, and left him, staying with one of her friends for a while — and found out in weeks that she was pregnant, and decided not to come back home until she’d had the baby. Robert Baratheon was her ex-fiancé, and while Uncle Ned and Grandpa Rickard tried to keep it quiet, once it got out that she’d disappeared from Winterfell, and was last seen with his dad, well, Robert had raged, threatened to destroy his dad (which he did) and insinuating that he’d kidnapped Mum — like anyone could make Mum do anything, really. So Robert ruined his dad’s business (Jon would hold a grudge against him for that, but he’d never even _met_ Rhaegar Targaryen, and he couldn’t, really), then told Uncle Ned to convince Lyanna to marry him anyways, to which Uncle Ned refused, because Mum told him she wouldn’t.

When Mum brought him back North, Uncle Robert had been _angry_. He’d taken one look at him and, Uncle Ned said, called him something awful (he had a feeling it roughly translated to bastard) that Uncle Ned wouldn't tell him. And Mum had hated Robert even _more_ ever since. Apparently she’d not even spoken to Uncle Ned for over a year because he hadn’t kicked Robert out of their place immediately.

Well, Jon wasn't about to like someone who'd insulted his Mum. But it seemed the years had changed Uncle Robert's memory of things, and for some reason he wanted to see her again. He'd heard Mum and Aunt Cat discussing it, the possibility that he might want to visit her, and Jon had decided that unless his Mum wanted to (and he _really_ doubted she would), Robert Baratheon would not see her.

"You won’t have to, Mum." Jon told her, and she ruffled his hair before going up the stairs. "If he tries to come here, Robb, tell me."

* * *

**10th February, 2013  
Pentos**

The museum visit had been Rhaenys' idea, but she was quickly starting to regret it.

Manse Mopatis was beautiful, and it must have been better back when it had actually been lived in. Apparently the owner was one of the old Magisters of Pentos, or one of the really rich men who ruled the city. He'd kept the place up beautifully, and after his death (443 AD or 339 AC, the plaque said — he had a plaque here near the entrance, and a statue that was supposedly carved by the greatest sculptor in the Free Cities at the time, Pytho Malanon) the city had ensured it stayed clean and in shape; and eventually, to protect it from thieves or raiders, they converted it to a museum.

It did say that a number of the items here were in fact actual belongings of Magister Illyrio, kindly donated to them after his death (more likely seized by the state on his death). And there were a _lot_ of things to see. Old Myrish carpets, old spice bottles that looked fragile enough to break on touch; a whole collection of giant old rings inlaid with a variety of colourful stones; maps that were hundreds of years old, old pottery, many many statues, paintings on every wall, and old coins of nearly every currency, like the old Westerosi Dragons, Stags and Stars (from the reign of _five_ Kings, from Aerys I to Aerys II) and some interesting coins that didn't look like currency at all. In fact, one even had some High Valyrian printed on it, though she was fairly certain no one in the Free Cities would have real Valyrian currency 400-odd years after the Doom.

The museum was interesting enough. Rhaenys loved history and old things, and she could have spent hours here enjoying herself on her own. The problem was that she wasn't on her own.

She'd come with Dany, Uncle Vis, Aegon, Arianne and Quen. And in their little group of six, she was entirely on her own, and the only one actually enjoying the _museum_. Quen followed Dany around like a lost puppy; nothing surprising, Dany was beautiful, with her pale hair and Valyrian features. Aegon kept trying to get Arianne's attention, (badly) flirting with her, and Arianne was playing along, giggling and giving him wide eyes and coy smiles. She loved her cousin, but Arianne was a _huge_ flirt, and she almost felt bad for Aegon. Uncle Viserys alternated between poking fun at Dany or Aegon, and trying to flirt with Arianne as well. She didn’t know which one was worse.

Rhaenys took pictures of the artifacts and rolled her eyes at them from time to time.

"Is that — " An almost reverent whisper came from Dany, and she raised her eyebrows, wondering what had interested her aunt that much. "It is!" Rhaenys rushed forward, camera in hand, until she came to the display Dany, Uncle Vis, Aegon and Quen were crowded around.

Inside were three large stones. No, no, fossilized eggs? The eggs were large, bigger than her face, even, and beautiful. They were scaled, and were covered with vibrant patterns; they almost looked as though they'd been painted, made of enamel or porcelain maybe, but they must be stone. One was black with dark red swirls, another cream and gold, and a third green and flecked with bronze.

"Dragon eggs," Dany breathed, her fingers resting just inches away from the glass, as though she could touch the eggs through the case. When Rhaenys looked up at her, her eyes were large, shining like nothing she’d seen before. Rhaenys looked from Aegon to Quentyn to Viserys to Dany, and wondered what was so great about some old stones.

* * *

**3rd March, 2013  
Winterfell**

Jaime couldn't say he liked the North much. It was cold, for one, far colder than anywhere else he'd ever been (including the summers he had spent as a child in the Ibbenese mountains, which were definitely not as cold, and even if they were, he'd been a. Better shielded against the cold and b. Skiing). The other problem was, of course, Ned Stark.

Ned Stark didn't like him. There were probably many reasons for this (his good looks? His youth? His hair? His ability to turn heads? His charm?), but the biggest one, Jaime knew, was that he'd been there when Jaime killed Aerys Targaryen. He'd taken one look at the dead man on the hospital bed, Jaime seated next to him with a smile on his face, and decided that he must be guilty. Normally, he wasn't the sort of guy to care about what men like Ned Stark thought of him. After all, Jaime knew what he was, and that killing Aerys Targaryen, who was a complete fucking psycho, was probably one of the best decisions he'd ever made. But Ned Stark judged him for it regardless, and when he was in the man's house for twelve hours a day, that pointed stare did get irritating.

Not to mention the fact that Cersei was determined not to speak civilly to him for as long as possible. Normally he'd have her company, at least. If she wasn't still bitter about the fact that he didn't, in fact, want to leave Kingsguard, they might have been sitting together somewhere, her saying something disdainful about the Starks, him listening. As it was, he was sitting in the Stark living room, bored out of his mind as he watched two of their younger children and Tommen take turns at playing some video game involving racing through increasingly cartoon-ish tracks. And, to add to it all, Tyrion wasn't picking up any of his calls.

He sighed. At least he had Angry Birds.

"What are you doing?" He suddenly heard, and when he looked up he saw the younger Stark girl — Arra? Alys? Some Northern name that started with A — peering into his phone. Tommen and the boy were playing now, and at some prompting from the older Stark girl, Serra or Serena or something, the boy was going easy on Tom.

"Nothing," he said, trying to hide that he'd been playing a game. But what else was he supposed to do? He was in the middle of nowhere, freezing his balls off _and_ bored out of his mind, all because Robert had got it into his head that if he wanted to invite Ned Stark South, he had to visit him in the North as well.

"I saw you. You were playing Angry Birds. Sansa never lets me play this game on her phone, she says she doesn't have it, but I've seen her. And my stupid phone's too old to have it. Can I play on yours?"

Jaime looked at the girl, eyebrows raised, as the other one responded with an exasperated "Arya!"

"You want to play on this? It's real easy." Arya (he _knew_ it was something that started with an A) scoffed at him, and he frowned, wondering what he'd said.

"I'm good at _all_ games. I'm better than Bran at Mario Kart and Call to Arms, even though he gets to play on the Wii more than I do."

"Not true, Arya!" Bran shouted back (Bran? What sort of a name was that?), not even looking behind him. Apparently it was a particularly intense round of letting Tommen win. Arya rolled her eyes and made a gesture implying she now expected him to give her his phone, so he did, peering into it as she shot birds at pigs.

Cersei and Catelyn Stark had just entered the room again, saying something about taking the girls shopping tomorrow — Gods, please tell him he didn't have to accompany them, because if he had to take hours of roaming the streets of Winterfell, he'd die of sheer boredom — when the doorbell rang.

Sansa (that was it, wasn't it?) got up to get the door immediately, looking up to see who it was, and finding no one. Jaime grinned.

"Why hello, young Ms. Stark," Tyrion greeted from the door, looking up at Sansa. "I assume you weren't expecting me?"

* * *

**12th February, 2013  
Pentos**

School in Pentos was different from in Braavos because of the completely different climate. Apparently, the school year started in September, working through the winter save a few weeks in December, but closed for the hottest of the summer months. Oh, and they had later hours, because they didn't have to deal with the fog that set in come dusk in Braavos.

When they'd first moved here, this was great, because it meant he didn't have to go to school for the first month they were there. Now, it felt less so. While he and Dany were busy, Vis, who was done with school, could spend his time with Arianne. Dany didn't seem to think this was a problem, but she wasn't the one trying to win someone over. The first couple of days he'd been alright, figuring he wasn't gone more than half the day, but things had gotten worse as Arianne was starting to show more interest in Viserys than in him.

And, to make it worse, Viserys had shown up at the little park near the college, Arianne and Rhaenys in tow. "Baby sister," he was saying, "Nephew." Aegon tried his best not to huff. _Uncle Vi_ s didn't normally care to call him nephew, but since Arianne and the others had arrived, he'd been careful to emphasize that Aegon was, yes, his nephew.

"Viserys, what are you doing here?" Dany was asking him, eyebrow raised as she put away her book.

"Yeah, Uncle Vis, what are you doing here?" At first he'd thought that his constantly being referred to as "nephew" (so much that even Dany'd noticed and asked him about it) would just make Viserys look older and so lessen him in Arianne's opinion, but apparently she _liked his maturity_. Or, well, that was what Vis had said, anyway. Aegon had considered not taking his word for it, but he seemed to be right.

It wasn't fair, really. Arianne was fantastic — as hot as the Dornish sun — but she never looked at him like...

Like she seemed to be doing now...  Like, in fact, Dany was as well. Aegon frowned, wondering if they both had their eyes wide and mouths open just slightly because of him. Sure, Aegon knew he was pretty good looking, but he'd definitely never been looked at like that, and certainly not by Dany.

"Does anyone know the way to the University College of Pentos? We're a little lost." Someone behind him asked with a thick accent, and Aegon turned.

_Oh_.

Behind him was the largest man Aegon had ever seen. He could suddenly see why they'd been staring; hells, he was, too, if for a somewhat different reason. _By the Gods_. The man seemed to be giving him an inferiority complex just by standing there, and Aegon wasn't exactly skinny. His arms were probably the size of Arianne's (slim) waist, his chest impossibly broad. And he was tall, well over 6 feet. He had a beard that made him look fierce — and somewhat scary, and long hair in a completely different way from Dad.

"Yeah, it's right here. I can — I can show you the way if you like." Dany was saying, somewhat shakily, to the man beside him. He was considerably smaller, though he wasn't exactly short himself. He wasn't Dothraki, and his accent was a bit like Dad's; Westerosi. Behind the large man were six others, all smaller than him.

The Westerosi man said something in Dothraki, before turning to Dany. "That would be helpful, thank you."

"Great. It's really close to here. Are you — are you enrolling to be a student here?" Dany asked as they turned to go, and Aegon fell into step with Viserys, who scoffed.

"I've never seen Dany look at someone like that." Rhaenys piped up from behind, and Vis made a face. Arianne laughed, her voice like tinkling bells — oh, no, those were _real_ bells ringing in the hair of one of the Dothraki girls; though that wasn’t to say Arianne’s laugh was any less musical. Gods, she reduced him to a complete idiot (though, of course, Vis would say that that was his natural state).

"I've never seen someone like that." Aegon nodded in agreement, if he'd ever seen someone like that, he'd have remembered.

"No, his nephew and nieces are. Irri, Jhiqui, and Jhogo." Aegon looked behind at the people following the man, and nodded at the two girls, probably of Dany's age, who were talking in rapid Dothraki. The man said something else, and the translator said, "The Khal asks your name, Miss?"

"Oh, I'm Daenerys. And that's my brother, Viserys, Aegon, Arianne and Rhaenys. And... you are?" Viserys shot a frosty smile at the translator, who was nodding politely at everyone while the larger man kept his eyes on Dany alone.

"Khal Drogo." He spoke, seeming to understand what she said, in a Dothraki accent so strong he could barely understand it. The look Dany shot Viserys through her smile was far more alarmed than he'd expect. 


	5. four (of opportunities)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cersei brings up Sansa's future. Rhaegar is called away for important business. The kids play a game, and so does Sam.

**4th March, 2013**   
**Winterfell**

Joffrey was wonderful. He was _so_ interesting; he played football for KLU (he _actually_ attended King's Landing Unversity, which was super-elite), and he had all sorts of interesting stories about it, and about the city and his many friends there. He told her about his favourite sportsmen, some of which he'd actually _met_. He didn't know much about Sansa's favourite actors or singers or movies, but he told her all about his favourite bands, and made great recommendations. He was sweet, and handsome, and always smelled so good. He agreed with everything she said about Arya, and he was so _funny_ , really. She didn't know why Robb and Arya didn't like him — but then Robb was a guy and probably jealous that Joff was better at football than he was, and Arya was stupid and didn't like anyone.

But the heart of it was that Sansa had never met someone so _perfect_ , no matter what Arya said.

No matter what Arya was saying now, actually, to Jon as she bid him goodbye. Jon didn't even disagree with her — but what did he know, he'd only met Joff tonight. Uncle Ben and Jon had come over for dinner that night because Uncle Robert had said something about calling all the Starks. Mother said he'd only wanted to meet Aunt Lya, but she hadn't shown up at all. Jon had said she'd been too ill to leave the house.

Sansa waved to Jon as he left and glared at Arya as they went back into the house. She kind of wanted to dump some of the dog food into Arya's hair for being so nasty about Joff, but it was really more something Arya would do, not her, and so she refrained.

"Did you count me in?" Arya shouted as they entered, running to where Robb and Bran were sitting next to Joff's uncle Tyrion. He'd brought up some sort of bus tour to the Wall, and Robb and Arya and Jon had all wanted to go — though she had to remember that this was a good thing. This meant Arya wouldn't be there with them when they went out shopping tomorrow. She was terrible about it, always whining that it was boring and that she wanted to go look at the video games or something fun, as though shopping wasn't already fun enough.

The Wall. It was cold and ancient and boring, as Joffrey had said during dinner when his uncle had brought it up. She had wanted to laugh then, but couldn't because Uncle Benjen led one of those tours himself. What was so interesting about _that_?

Sansa returned to the kitchen, finding Mum and Mrs. Lannister there. Dad and Uncle Robert had probably gone to Dad's study again, where they talked about Gods-knew-what for hours, and then Mum complained that Dad was exhausted.

"Is Sansa in her last year of school?" Mrs. Lannister was asking Mum as she started to clear the plates. Joff was already in the living room, doing something on his phone. She wanted to go out, but she had to clean up first.

"No, she's finished with school. She's taking an internship with Glover-Tallhart this summer." Sansa smiled over her shoulder, washing her hands.

"Isn't that just so sweet. Glover-Tallhart is a fashion house, isn't it? Aren't you going to design school?" Sansa blushed, turning again so her face couldn't be seen. She had wanted to, she had wanted to _so much_. But there were no good design schools in the North (and she definitely _wasn't_ going to the Neck) and Mum and Dad had both said she couldn't go South on her own for four years. She wasn't a child, but they still treated her like one. It wasn't fair.

"There aren't many good schools for that in the North." She said simply, and turned, wiping her hands to see Mrs. Lannister nodding somewhat thoughtfully.

"The best design school in Westeros is in King's Landing. You must have heard of Celtigar? And Crown University College has a course as well." Sansa nodded, feeling wistful. She knew that; she'd looked up everything about Celtigar last year, but it was too far away. If Mum and Dad were saying no to Pinkmaiden School of Design, which was so close to Riverrun she could call Uncle Edmure if she ever needed to, they'd definitely say no to Celtigar. Sansa sighed, taking a seat as she picked up the coffee Mum had made her.

"She did mention something about those schools, but they're so far away. Ned and I don't want her alone so far from home." Mum said. To hide her frown at the repetition, Sansa took a sip of her coffee, trying not to wince at the bitter taste. She normally had hot chocolate, but Joffrey had said something about how hot chocolate was for babies when Myrcella had taken some the other day, and she didn't want him to think she was childish.

"She wouldn't be alone, of course. Even if Ned decides to refuse, we'd always be there, watching over her." Mrs. Lannister turned to smile at her, and even Mum looked like she was seriously considering this even though she'd considered none of the ideas Sansa herself had given.

Sansa beamed.

* * *

**15th February, 2013**   
**Pentos**

Rhaegar didn't like leaving the children home alone.

Part of this had to do with how, since his mother's death, it had been just him taking care of an infant Dany, an eight year old Vis, and Aegon, who had been two (he'd have had Rhaenys to take care of too, had she not absolutely refused to go to Braavos with him, and some days he would take the extra effort another child would have meant if the other side offered a better relationship than the one they had now). Sometimes he felt less like his siblings' elder brother and more like their father — though, Gods, he hoped he was nothing like their father, as awful as it was of him to think of his dearly departed dad.

All the same, there were times he didn't exactly have an option. When people like Varys called Rhaegar all the way from Pentos and said it was important, then _it really was important_. He knew he should try to put it off, but The Spider (as associates and clients alike called him) wasn't the sort of man one kept waiting, and Rhaegar wasn't an idiot.

Sighing, he pocketed the keys. "Don't trash the house." He instructed Aegon and Vis as he checked twice if he had everything. "And don't let Dany or Rhaenys or — anyone go out on their own." Apparently Dany had met some guy, but he hoped between the five of them they'd have enough sense not to let her go out with someone she'd met once before when he wasn't around. Though, of course, he was giving the wrong two instructions. Quentyn and Rhaenys were twice as mature as these two, but none of the others would listen to Quentyn (as he'd gathered) and Rhaenys...

"Yeah, Dad, thanks. Hey, should we open doors to strangers? If they have candy?" Aegon rolled his eyes at him, and Rhaegar glared at him with his strictest glare, which he knew wasn't as sharp as any glare his parents had perfected. If he just knew how Mum had done it.

"And if you go to the museum or something, have at least one person home. But _no one_ go out alone.." Rhaenys looked up sharply from her seat when he said _museum_ , her expression, honestly, quite dangerous. She liked that sort of thing, didn't she? He knew she was interested in history, the way he was. Did she resent him for that, too? Arianne looked up from her magazine to look between the two of them.

Eventually Rhaegar looked away guiltily.

"Take care, alright." He finally said somewhat tightly to Aegon, before leaving.

"You too, Dad. See you!" There were more goodbyes; from Vis, Arianne, Quentyn, and a hug from behind from Dany. Nothing from Rhaenys, but maybe that was to be expected.

* * *

**6th March, 2013**    
 **Winterfell**

The bus that went to the Wall was smaller than Sam had imagined. A smaller bus meant fewer people, which was good — but it also meant smaller seats.

That made things a bit difficult.

Getting in was enough of a problem; with his own girth and then the added space taken up by the many layers of thick sweaters he wore, he barely managed to squeeze in through the doors. The inside of the bus was blessedly warm, and he was glad to take off his extra sweaters and place them on a seat next to him. Unfortunately, the minute he sat down, the seat below him creaked loudly, earning him a pitying glance from the man standing at the entrance; probably the tour guide.

_Just great_ , Sam thought miserably. Even the tour guide pitied him. At least Dad and Dickon weren't here; his younger brother may not be as nasty about his weight as their father was, but he wasn't great about it, either.

Sam sighed and pulled out his 3DS, opening up the latest Pokemon game and looking out the window as he waited for the title screens to pass. He was the only one on the bus at the moment, but he could see an older couple outside, heavily bundled and carrying a camera. Oh, and a family standing farther away, a couple and two children. If that was all the people there were going to be, Sam would be very happy indeed. The trip to the Wall was long, and, well, people didn't really like him very much.

He supposed in a way this wasn't just their fault. He wasn't comfortable around people in general, which, if asked to find a textbook explanation, he'd probably say was part social anxiety and part maladaptive thinking due to faulty learning.

Sam rolled his eyes at himself and put his textbooks out of his mind. It had been a long time since he’d had a vacation, and he wasn't going to think of psychology right now — hells, even Professor Rhysling wouldn’t want him to be thinking of psychology right now. So Sam was going to do as he’d told himself and told his mum and told Prof. Rhysling, and not think of the subject at all. And while he was at it, he was also not going to think of why he'd taken a vacation.

Of course, now that he'd said he wasn't going to think about it, it was all he had in his mind. Even as he fought Lillipup for the third time — he _hated_ the Aspertia gym, it was bloody miserable, and which gym leader had normal type pokemon anyway? — all he could think of was his dad's thinly veiled threats to disown him (again).

Sam would say it wasn't his fault (it probably wasn't), but he knew that it would be pointless, as his dad liked to blame everyone but himself for everything, and Sam was his favourite target.

From outside came the sound of an old car and lots of laughter, and Sam looked out of the window to see a large group of people arrive. Amidst them was one very tall man, two other boys probably his age, and three children. The girl was punching the darker haired boy, and the others were laughing at them. Their general good cheer was at odds with Sam’s mood right now, and he wished they didn’t look quite so happy. Unfortunately for him (but then when _did_ things go his way? And he didn’t mean that in _when did cars come hurtling his way_ , because that was more often than he’d like) they were all quite cheerful, laughing and being physically playful — and heading right for his bus.

Sam groaned.

* * *

**15th February, 2013  
Pentos**

Halfway through watching _Florian + Jonquil_ (apparently when they set their minds to it, Dany and Arianne were a force to be reckoned with), Rhaenys got bored of the movie. It was interesting enough, sure, but she'd never been a particular fan of the story, didn't really like the cast, and could think of far more interesting things to do than watch this. For one, now that he wasn't home, she could finally steal into Rhaegar's library and find one of the rarer books on history he liked collecting. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she’d heard from Aegon that he had a new version of Septon Barth’s _The Lives of Four Kings_ , which was ancient and impossible to find, seeing as there had only been three copies in existence about fifteen-hundred years ago, and not enough people had had the brilliant idea of converting it to proper print.

But just as she was about to get up, it seemed Arianne had tired of the movie as well, and had a similar idea about abandoning it halfway, even though she was the one who'd wanted to watch it in the first place. Before Rhaenys could get off of the couch where Aegon was lying with his feet on her legs, Arianne was back from the kitchen, a bottle in her hands.

"So, who here has never played Spin the Bottle?"

"How old are you, Arianne? Come on, this isn't a good idea." Rhaenys protested, only to be shot down immediately by Aegon and Uncle Vis. She knew Quentyn wouldn't disagree with Arianne now, and even Dany looked curious.

"Oh come on, Rhae, don't be a spoilsport!" Aegon said, and she groaned, making a face. Really, she should have known. She may not be interested, but all the rest of them certainly were.

"Fine, but leave me out of it." Rhaenys argued, getting off the couch, only to be pulled back by Aegon grabbing her legs and pulling, Quentyn helping him. She shot a betrayed look to Quen, who simply shrugged and grinned.

"We need even numbers, sis. You can read some other time."

Rhaenys sighed and crossed her arms, glaring at everyone. In between Dany's pleading look, Viserys' dare and everyone else practically beseeching her, she sighed again and acquiesced.

"Fine. But not Spin the Bottle!" She said immediately. The boo-ing that reached her ears, of course, came from her brother. "Don't boo me, Aegon! We're siblings, Ari and Quen are, Dany and Uncle Vis are. Spin the Bottle could get really messy." She wrinkled her nose.

"That's okay." Arianne said with the look of someone who’d just gotten exactly what they wanted. "So we play I Have Never." Eyes widening as she realized what this would probably mean, Rhaenys was now very, very afraid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, as always, to my beta, josiepug! :)


	6. five (the tales people tell)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyrion tells a story. Catelyn asks questions (and gets unsatisfying answers). In Pentos, a game is underway.

**6th March, 2013**   
**En-route to the Wall**

The good thing was that this family was so loud that after his initial wish that his own family was more like this, he'd quite forgotten about Dad and what he'd said. They were so distracting that it was way too loud to think of him.

The bad thing was that the noise meant he couldn't focus on Pokemon, he couldn't quite see out of the small windows, and he had someone sitting next to him on an already creaking seat. Someone who was very curious about all things Pokemon..

"What're you playing?" He'd asked earlier, and Sam had told him. Then, from time to time when there was a lull in the conversation, he'd ask him something else about the game. It was nice, but it could be disturbing when he was in any of the gyms. Then, on hearing that he was playing Black and White, which was apparently his sister's favourite, Bran — the kid — had announced that Sam could probably beat her at it any day. Arya, Bran's sister, had taken offense at this and first told Bran to shove it, then given Sam a really, really nasty glare.

They'd all introduced each other when they'd gotten on the bus The older couple were Mina and Paxter Redwyne. They were seated up front,  and had spent most of the time talking amongst themselves in low whispers. The couple with kids were Robett and Sybelle Glover, and their children, Gawen and Erena. They'd gone to the back, and the children were, miraculously, asleep.

Then there was this family. The two guys his age were Jon (the dark-haired one) and Robb (the auburn-haired one); they were seated in front of him. Bran, of course, was beside him. Robb was Bran and Arya's brother, and Jon their cousin, even though Arya looked more like Jon's sister than Robb's. Arya sat diagonally across from Bran, with the little blonde boy, Tommen. Behind them was the older guy, Jaime, and the last person — Sam had thought he was a kid at first sight, but it turned out he was, well, a dwarf. Sam felt badly about his assumption. That was Tyrion, Jaime's brother. He was quite interesting.

At the moment, he was telling them all some sort of story about the Wall. "It was built to protect the lands of men from the Others, of course. You all know what the Others are, I suppose? The dead, brought back to life by dark magics beyond our understanding. The only thing that really differentiates them from living people is that their skin is as pale as snow, and their eyes a deep electric blue — and freezing cold even to look at. And they're inhuman! They move faster than any man, and have weapons stronger than any steel, save Valyrian. Of course, they've probably adapted to modern weapons now."

In the front, their tour guide, a Mr. Benjen Stark, rolled his eyes.

"But the Others don't exist anymore! They're only stories." Arya said, and Tyrion raised a finger. Even Sam found himself paying attention.

"Maybe, but maybe not. No one's seen what's beyond the Wall in over five hundred years. The Wall was erected to keep the White Walkers away, and when the Wall falls..." He let his sentence end ominously.

"I'm afraid the Wall isn't about to fall, Mr. Lannister. It's too strong!" The tour guide called.

"Everything falls someday, Benjen. You've all heard of Storm's End, haven't you? One of the strongest castles of ancient Westeros, and it fell all the same." He paused.

"And, you know, it's been nearly ten thousand years since the Wall was built, and all the legends say that however great the castle, it falls in its ten-thousandth year. Like Storm's End. And to think about it... The stories say Brandon the Builder built the Wall in a day, but that's an obvious lie. No one can have built a wall made almost purely of ice seven hundred feet high in a day. Some studies conducted a few decades back discovered that the Wall had taken closer to fifteen years to build, and concluded exactly eight thousand years before Aegon's Conquest."

Sam frowned. What did that have to do with anything? So they began construction seven thousand and eighty-five years BC, so what? Then it dawned on him. "You mean — in 2015 it'll be ten thousand years exactly since the Wall began construction?"

Tyrion smirked and nodded.

* * *

**6th March, 2013  
Winterfell**

The mall at Winterfell was little more than a market. The shops had almost nothing she would buy or want to wear, but Myrcella seemed happy enough. She liked shopping with her in King's Landing — Cersei considered it the one thing they could really bond over, so they went on these shopping trips often — but she never really bought the sort of thing that suited someone of her class. Cella insisted on dressing like, well, the rabble, and couldn't be convinced out of it.

She was stubborn, Myrcella was. Just like her father, Cersei supposed. When people saw Cella, they saw Cersei's face in miniature. When Cersei looked at her, she saw Jaime.

Tommen was usually far more malleable. _Usually_. The little imp had appeared at Winterfell (as though this northern hell wasn't miserable enough without him making things worse) and convinced most of the Stark kids to go with him to the Wall. Why anyone would want to visit that freezing godsforsaken block of ice, she didn't know, but on hearing everyone agreeing to go, even his new friend Bran, Tommen had insisted.

At least Jaime was with them. He was being nothing but a bother when he was around her, throwing her meaningful glances all the time. Was it her fault that he wanted to act the child and wouldn't agree to do what he'd been born to do? _I'm in Kingsguard, Cers_. Was Kingsguard all he wanted for his whole life?

"Would Joffrey like this?" She heard from behind, and turned to see Sansa and Myrcella standing around a somewhat tacky display of sunglasses that Joffrey would never wear.

Even then, she had to appreciate Sansa's enthusiasm to please Joff. She was a pretty enough girl, with her mother's looks and none of those long Stark features. A bit of an airhead, it seemed to Cersei, but that was good. And she'd kept Joffrey happy so far. Normally he'd be full of complaints about the North, how bored he was getting, when they could go back to King's Landing. If the girl came to King's Landing, as she seemed so keen on doing... Well, Joffrey could do worse than Sansa Stark. She was impressionable, and very impressed with Cersei. She could be manipulated easily, and if she kept Joffrey out of trouble, it was all for the best. Robert couldn't complain, either, or Father.

"They seem very fond of each other, don't they?" Catelyn asked, and Cersei nodded. "Your children don't seem to give you any trouble." Cersei's smile froze on her face as she tried not to scowl.

"No, they're good children. They stay out of trouble." Myrcella and Tommen did most of the time, any way. Joffrey was... difficult. But it was nothing she couldn't handle most of the time.

"I wish I could stay the same of mine. They're all good children, but there are always the little arguments and sibling rivalries." Cersei nodded with a sympathetic smile, though she couldn't help but wonder; what sort of woman complained about her children to a complete stranger, a woman she'd met for the first time that week? It was ridiculous. Cersei knew she'd never say a bad word about her children to Robert, let alone Catelyn Stark. "I suppose you must know enough about that? With two brothers?" Cersei shook her head, sighing.

"Tyrion and Jaime have always been close. Jaime and Mother always doted on him, their little darling." She smiled wistfully.

Tyrion's birth had been difficult. Cersei and Jaime were seven; they'd sat in the hospital sept, hands clasped. Jaime prayed for a little brother just like him and Cersei prayed for a sister, a little doll-like thing she could play with when she was older and show off when she was a baby. Father had prayed as well, she imagined, in his own way. For Mother, of course.

The doctors told them it was a difficult birth, that Mrs. Lannister might not survive, but she had. Cersei remembered seeing Mother later, exhausted. Joanna Lannister had always been beautiful, even when she was asleep, but she hadn't been particularly beautiful then. She was covered in sweat, her hair was plastered to her forehead, and she was in the ugly hospital gown. And her brother was an ugly baby. He had twisted legs and a jutting forehead, and the thin hair on his tiny head was both black and blond. When he opened his eyes, one was jewel green like her own, and the other was black. He was a monster.

_Mother almost died for this?_ She remembered thinking, even as Jaime traced his tiny face and cooed over him in his crib. _Surely Mother would despise him, this ugly thing who couldn't be her brother, and pay him no attention._ She'd been wrong, though. From day one, both Jaime and Mother doted over the little imp, and she lost half the time and attention her twin and her mother spent on her to the ugly baby. Even today, Tyrion remained Mother's favourite.

"I have two siblings myself." Catelyn was saying, and Cersei forced herself to nod and look like she cared. "Lysa and I were very close as children. Edmure was younger, only ten when I got married. It's so odd. When I was younger, I thought I'd always see them everyday, but I haven't seen either in four years. You're very lucky to have your siblings close." Catelyn was smiling wistfully, too, and Cersei nodded. _Lucky._ She'd convinced Jaime, once, years ago, that Kingsguard was a good idea, so he could always be around her. So much potential... it was partly her mistake then, she supposed. But his bloody stubbornness, that was all him. And Tyrion, well...

"I suppose I am. I don't know what I'd be without Jaime around." It was true, in a way. She couldn't imagine stomaching Robert everyday without him around to take some of the stress off her. "If you do come to King's Landing... It's a shame Lysa Arryn moved back to the Vale." _A shame._ It was a relief. The woman seemed barking mad most days, and Cersei was glad to be rid of her.

"She thought it would be best for her family." Catelyn sounded tired, but when she looked up it was with a look in her eyes that Cersei didn't like. Grief for her sister, or something else? "She mentioned that Robert had suggested sending Robin away?"

Cersei nodded. "Robert was talking about sending little Robin to Dragonstone. His brother Stannis lives there. _Robin could use a good tempering influence_ , he'd say. _Stannis would make a proper man of him_. But Lysa didn't think it was a good idea." Of course, Robert Arryn needed more than a tempering influence. He was a horribly spoiled child, always clinging to his mother's skirt — or her blouse. She would have paid to see Stannis bundled with that brat.

"It's a shame." Catelyn repeated, sighing.

* * *

**15th February, 2013  
Pentos**

Rhaenys had played I Have Never with Arianne before, but Dany, Aegon and Vis had not. Which meant, of course, that they were taking things badly. As the drinking progressed, so did the painful honesty.

"I have never... had a threesome." Dany said without drinking. Arianne snorted and drank. Aegon and Vis looked between each other, and Aegon made a face when Viserys drank. Rhaenys rolled her eyes. The game had quickly devolved into a competition between Aegon and Viserys, with Arianne as the "prize" (something she was well aware of, though the Seven knew she wouldn't be anyone's _prize_ at the end of it), and Dany, Rhaenys and Quen were reduced to spectators.

"I have never been in a threesome with two girls." Aegon appended. Arianne drank again, raising an eyebrow towards the others. Viserys set his glass down, looking disbelieving and impressed — of course. Aegon choked.

"Playing with Arianne too much for you two?" Dany asked, laughing. Rhaenys joined the laughter as her brother and uncle both started muttering something under their breath, looking at the ground, embarrassed.

The game continued. Rhaenys drank, then didn't, then did again. When Aegon started looking a bit green, Quentyn disappeared to the kitchen to get something to eat.

Sometimes Rhaenys felt bad for Quen. His crush on Dany was sort of sweet, and his attempts to impress her were far from subtle. Unfortunately, Dany's interest had been won by someone else, and Quentyn was no Khal Drogo. He knew this, of course, but he wasn't sulking the way she knew her brother and her uncle would once Arianne had made her decision. She knew Dany liked him, too, just not in the same way he liked her.

When the phone rang, Rhaenys got up, glad to leave the game for a minute. She groaned as she swayed slightly on her way to the phone. She must be more drunk than she'd thought. "I have never had alcohol poisoning." Viserys said with a smirk and a raised eyebrow towards Aegon, who seemed to go even greener. Rhaenys rolled her eyes and left the room.

"Hello?"

"Rhaenys, darling, can you give the phone to your brother?" It was dad. _Rhaegar_. That was sobering enough. How long had it been since he left? Two hours? Three?

"Rhaegar? Uh, I'll get him in a second." She didn't tense easily, really. But whenever she spoke to Rhaegar, she felt like her heart was in her mouth. She didn't think it was fair, for her to feel so nervous just talking to him. He was the one who should be nervous, and she was the one who had the right to be angry.

Holding the phone to her palm to muffle any noise, she went to the living room.

"Aegon," she whispered, "it's Rhaegar."

Aegon shot her a frown but took the phone, swaying a bit as he stood. She would have laughed, but she could still feel her jaw clenching. Aegon, who was an idiot, thought she should call him "dad". Of course, Rhaegar really had no right to expect that, or anything, from her after what he'd done. He knew that well enough, so now he didn't even try.

Not that she had a problem with it.

She didn't want him to try, because no matter what he said or did, Rhaenys didn't intend to forgive him. She just wished her idiot brother would accept that and let her be.

 


End file.
